The Villa of Death: A Mystery Featuring Daphne du Maurier (Daphne du Maurier Mysteries) (7 page)

“I believe Major Browning has rooms at Jamaica Inn,” Colonel Ramsay said. “We ourselves are heading in that direction if you’d like a lift?”

I hadn’t anticipated such a quick departure from Thornleigh. No time to see to my hair or dress. Not that I
cared
for the major’s good opinion but I had intended to go properly dressed. As it stood, I’d simply thrown on a nondescript day gown and my hair lacked luster. It needed a good wash after the wedding-hair arrangement which left it positively coarse and wiry. I’d pulled it back into a severe knot at the nape of my neck and Jeanne said I looked like a governess.

Governess or no, I accepted the colonel’s offer. He preferred an open motorcar and to drive himself. I sat in the rear with his wife who frowned at her husband’s desire for speed.

“Oh Leopold, you’re such a child!”

His grin broadened in the side mirror. “Daphne doesn’t mind, does she?”

“No,” I shouted back, “but if I had a hat I might.”

He laughed at this and I begged him to slow down when we neared the township. There were so many interesting cottages dotted alongside the beautiful countryside. My heart ached to live here, to breathe in the lavender fields each day, to own my own rose garden, to live in a house as grand as Thornleigh. But my heart belonged in Cornwall.

“How will you get home, my dear?” the colonel’s wife asked when we motored into the village.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll find my way.”

I reassured them both, waving them off as my feet landed on the cobbles outside Jamaica Inn. Blushing scarlet as I caught a glimpse of myself, I hurried inside the reflector doors and marched straight up to the lady at the reception desk.

“Hello, would you please tell Major Browning he has a visitor?”

The lady eyed me suspiciously. What did an unaccompanied young lady want with Major Browning, her demeanor insinuated. I refused to give her the satisfaction, drumming my fingers on the desk instead.

“Ye can tell him yeself,” she eventually snarled. “Room two, upstairs on the left.”

“Thank you.” I smiled serenely.

I half expected her to say he was out, dining with his fiancée or touring the countryside. She must have known he had a fiancée and that was why she was curious as to my visit. No doubt she’d ask him upon his return and I wondered what answer he would give. “Oh, she’s a friend.” “Oh, she’s my cousin.” “Oh, she’s the love of my life I have recently betrayed by my engagement to Lady Lara Fane.”

Room two beckoned. Scraping my fist across the wooden door, I glanced around, glad nobody had seen me, though I could hear the maids downstairs whispering.

“One minute,” said the voice inside and I cringed.

I almost darted back down the stairs. Coward, coward, I told myself. Remember why you’ve come.
Remember.

His face gleamed behind the opening door. Half undressed and halfway through his shaving routine, he invited me inside. If I hadn’t blushed because of his deshabille, I might have insisted he see me downstairs.

I tried not to look at him as he floated around the room, happy and relaxed at his leisure. He continued shaving. “I am most privileged to receive you this morning.”

“I am here on Ellen’s behalf.” I got to the point.

“Ah.” He scraped a spot on the left side of his face.

“She’ll see you.”

He paused, glancing at me through the mirror. “That’s good.”

“Come to the house at three o’clock this afternoon. Good day.”

I hastened to the door but he caught my hand.

“Where are you going so early? Won’t you at least share my breakfast with me?”

Share his breakfast with him?
“Share your breakfast with you,” I echoed in utter disbelief. “
Share your breakfast with you?
”

“No need to reiterate the invitation,” he joked, toweling dry his face. “Here.” He brought the chair from the window to sit opposite his tiny breakfast table. “That’s nice and cozy, isn’t it? Coffee or tea? No, you take your coffee black and strong in the mornings.”

That he’d remembered this minor detail only served to increase my fury. “No, I’ll have tea, white and weak. No sugar.”

He lifted a devil-may-care eyebrow and I realized the folly of my situation. What was I doing here alone and unaccompanied in the private rooms of a bachelor?

I lingered because I wanted an explanation.

I lingered because I wanted to hurt him as he’d hurt me.

I didn’t care a fig for propriety.

Resuming his devil-may-care attitude, he poured his coffee and bit into his buttered toast. “Hmm, a bit cold. I like my toast warm. You?”

Since he wished to play pleasantries, I went along with him. “I prefer a boiled egg.”

“Do you?”

I glared at a corner of the tablecloth. He had such a way of showing interest when he didn’t mean it.

“Oh, come now. Don’t you dream of a nice warm brioche smothered with strawberry jam and whipped cream?”

“No. I’d prefer bacon and mushrooms.”

“And spinach? Kippers?”

“No kippers.”

“Excellent.”

He selected another piece of toast and lathered a good spoonful of plum jam on it. Before biting into it, he offered me half. I declined.

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” he murmured, keeping his gaze upon me as he devoured slowly, licking his fingers at the end.

“I suppose you do this routine with your fiancée? Where is she? Hiding behind a curtain?”

The very notion of Lady Lara Fane hiding behind any curtain was ridiculous and we both knew it. He laughed and I managed a miniscule smile.

“Progress,” he smiled back. “I’m glad for we are much more than friends, aren’t we, Daphne?”

His dark eyes remained intent upon mine, as though endeavoring to lure out secrets. I wished I could hold under such scrutiny, however, I faltered. He was too good looking, too charming, and too practiced, curse him.

“Lady Lara and I are not really engaged. We might have been, if you hadn’t come along.”

“Oh?” I feigned mild interest though I burned to know everything.

“It was our parents’ dearest wish that we one day marry. When Lara’s father became sick at the beginning of this year, she asked me to pose as her fiancée publicly. We intend to keep up the pretense until he passes away.”

“I see. How generous of you.”

“I am not at all generous.”

“You could have mentioned something about her to me.”

“I could have.”

“You deliberately didn’t because…”

“Because I knew you’d be upset.”

He was smiling at me now, warmly. “My dearest girl, how prickly you are! I would have explained at the wedding if you had let me. As it stands, I am despised by your father, and your mother and sisters have daggers in their eyes whenever I encounter them.”

A grimace lurked at the corners of my mouth. I liked the notion of
him
being uncomfortable. He was always so polished in society, so liked by everyone. It was good for him to endure a dose of displeasure, I decided. “Why do you want to see Ellen? What do you know about Teddy Grimshaw?”

“Questions, questions. If I’m going to answer any of them, you have to spend a few hours in my company.”

I gazed at him askance. My hair was a mess, my dress was atrocious, and I looked and felt ghastly. I had left the house in too much of a hurry to even grab my umbrella. At least, I consoled myself, I had taken Angela’s advice last winter and packed my handbag appropriately, now stocked with all kinds of goodies to use for such occasions.

“Unless you have other transport?”

I almost lied and said I had Mr. Dean Fairchild, a handsome and eligible American, waiting for me downstairs.

“Then it’s not too bad to endure a little time with the man you love touring the countryside—”

“The man I love? You truly are conceited.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I know.” He grinned. “I cannot help it. Or perhaps it comes out only with you. You have a devil of a way of fanning the fires, so to speak.”

“Don’t you have an engagement with your fiancée? Luncheon or something?”

“I do,” he replied back merrily, “but when a better offer comes up, one must take it.”

His gaze lowered as he tilted his head down toward mine almost as though he meant to kiss me. Retreating to the door, I chastised myself for my weakness. I knew this man. His wishing to spend time in my company concealed a motive to find out details. I decided then to see whether he’d try to ask questions on our little outing. Dare I place a bet on it? A thousand pounds he’d try to pry something out of me.

“I don’t suppose Lady Lara and her parents are staying in this shabby inn?”

“Snobby.” He whistled as we descended the staircase. “It’s not at all shabby. It’s charming.”

He waited for me to prompt him. “Well?” I insisted once on the street. “Where is the earl of Rutland residing?”

“In a house.” He grinned, directing me to his motorcar. “In
their
house. They have one here.”

“Of course they do. Earls have houses everywhere.”

“I wager your Sir Marcus has more houses than the earl.”

“He’s not
my
Sir Marcus,” I began to say then stopped. Why should I? Why not pretend Sir Marcus and I had something between us?

“He measures every woman against you.” His dry statement accompanied us across the street.

I paused beside the polished Bentley. “Is this your car?”

“Don’t sound so incredulous. Get in.”

It wasn’t until we were blazing out of the tiny village that he said: “No, you are right. It is on loan from a friend.”

“A friend from the Yard?” At his pause, I sighed. “Oh, please. It’s just a car; not a state secret.”

A secret smile eluded his lips. “One never knows with you. You are entirely too nosy.”

“Nosy? I don’t like that word. Inquisitive is better.”

He changed gears. “By the way, I read your story. It was excellent.”

I wasn’t expecting the compliment. “Thank you.”

A wry grin touched his lips. “I picked all the connections. Your inspiration: Rachael Eastley.”

“To begin with, yes, but you will note my widow had her differences. She is more forthright and determined.”

“Traits of yours?”

I shrugged. “Where are we going exactly? I do have a life, you know. I am not entirely at your beck and call.”

“Oh, but you are.” He laughed into the wind. “I have you captive and for a couple of hours or so, you’re completely mine.”

I refused to allow his charms to win me over. “What is it you wish to discuss with Ellen? I am her ambassador.”

“Ambassador! What nonsense. You scarcely know the woman.”

“I know her very well,” I hissed. “Just because we are pen-friends doesn’t mean I don’t know her. In fact, I wager I know her a great deal better than my other friends whom I spend time with on a weekly basis.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “you share secrets.”

“To some degree. There’s a comfort in being a pen-friend. One can write almost anything about one’s life while absorbing another’s. It’s quite…” I stopped. How had he done that? Lured me to talk about Ellen when I’d decided not to?

He realized how annoyed I’d become with the fact and smiled into the breeze.

“I suppose it’s pointless to ask what kind of work you’re doing at the moment?”

“At the moment,” he began, a serious tone to his voice, “at the moment I am working on playing the fiancée.”

“Of course you are. I’m surprised the earl of Rutland approves of you. How many houses to your name?”

“Not as many as Sir Marcus.” He laughed. “And I have it on good authority I’d make a very bad husband.”

“Oh?”

“My godmother says so. I’d like you to meet her one day.”

“That’s very unlikely.”

“Not as unlikely as you think.” He consulted his watch. “We should be there in half an hour.”

“Half an hour!” He had to be joking.

“She lives in a cottage near Tintagel Castle.”

He wasn’t joking.

“I promised her I’d take this future famous novelist to come and meet her. She loves books. In fact, I’ve never seen her without one.”

He went on to list the last few books she’d read and the comments she’d made about them. Half-listening, I tensed in my seat. Why did he want me to meet his godmother? Shouldn’t he have warned me first?

No. If he’d suggested it, I’d have suggested he take his
fiancée
to meet her. Perhaps he’d already brought Lady Lara here. “What does Lady Lara think of your godmother?”

“She’s never met her.”

“What was she doing today? An appointment with her dresser? Am I a fill-in?”

Suddenly his foot slammed on the brakes.

I hung onto my seat. He looked angry. I’d never seen him look angry before and the vision startled me.

“What will it take for you to believe me? I don’t think you realize what a great risk…” His jawline tightened. “No, you don’t understand. How could you? You’re just a woman.”

“I’m just a woman!” I screeched back, ready to jump out of the car and run down the road. I would have done so if he hadn’t caught my arm. “Let me go.”

“If Lara tells you the truth, will you believe her? What I meant to say was we’re asking a great deal of you to conceal the knowledge of our counterfeit engagement.”

“When did she ask you?” I needed to know. I needed to know all the details and make the necessary connections.

“Several months ago. Before I saw you on the Isles of Scilly.”

I counted in my mind every meeting we’d had together and to my dismay, the cards stacked in his favor. Our relationship bloomed at Somner House and turned into something deeper and intrinsically warmer. Ironic, I thought, that it had done so in the throes of winter.

He started the car again and I remained silent. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to hug the knowledge that he cared for me. More than a friend. More than a passing love interest. He cared for me so much he’d instruct Lara to talk to me. I smiled. I kind of enjoyed that promise … the acknowledgement of my place in Major Browning’s heart.

Did he have a heart? A heart capable of enduring love?